


warm but with no sun

by little_froggie_hat



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, mcyt
Genre: Gen, depression arc but if it ended worse, this is legit my first fanfiction so i'm sorry if this sucks ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28138983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_froggie_hat/pseuds/little_froggie_hat
Summary: um so basically tommy is very dead. (in the fic lol) and a ghost now. i apologize if this sucks. it's my first piece of writing. :] also this was mildly inspired by this tweet: (https://twitter.com/ChekyChickadee/status/1337813852596154371?s=20) oki thanks bye ~!
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Kudos: 26





	warm but with no sun

he didn’t remember much. sometimes a soft tune would filter through his head that dragged the faint dredges of what should be memories. (clara…a bench..?) it seemed to carve into his brain, in a hazy, scratchy way, leaving him only confused. he knows there’s supposed to be something there.

he feels that way about a lot of things these days. sometimes he wishes he could share these lovely tunes. they make him happy. maybe they would make ghostbur a bit happier too... his vocal chords don’t work though. he knows they did at one point. it frustrates him sometimes. he’ll wake up and have his lips closing around a soundless scream. he doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about.

it snowed the other day, the cold breeze rattling the empty branches around him. but he didn’t feel cold anymore. he was burning constantly.

it was a feeling that started at his blackened fingertips and swept up. settled deep into the pit of his spine. a comfortable feeling. he mostly stayed with ghostbur. sometimes ghostbur would snuggle up to him. call him a fireplace. (that made him happy.) he didn’t understand it, but he couldn’t bare being around the others on the server. sometimes they just stared in a way he didn’t understand, expectantly. as if they’re waiting for him to do something, say something, anything. when he first showed up, there were so many questions. some crying, some yelling.

he didn’t like the yelling. he didn’t know why.

a flash of green caught his eye the other day, standing out against the white snow. (neon.) the flash of panic it sent straight to his gut didn’t make sense. but he didn’t question it. the world blurred through the streak of lava running down his cheeks. he dashed, ghostbur calling after him in concern. it wasn’t very practical. his brain didn’t care. a chorus of “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” echoed through his head, making it pound. around, around, around. covering his ears with his hands didn’t help at all, no matter how hard he pressed. he could barely hear the quiet lull of a voice. ghostbur, leaning next to him on the ground. he was humming something. (it was nice.)

he remembers in the early days, when he first appeared, people tried giving him gifts. “some stuff to get by.” they had said. a coat, a pickaxe, stuff like that.

any time someone handed him something he would either drop it immediately or head to the nearest source to burn it. people stopped giving him things quickly after that. he didn’t know why he did it. he felt bad about it, he did. but he couldn’t not. it was like an itch. an instinct. built into him. he doesn’t know why they tried in the first place though. in his opinion, he had all he needed. and hey, his outfit is pretty pog. sure, it’s a little burned just like the rest of him, but what isn’t these days, right?

he uses bandages to cover what his shirt and pants don't, because apparently it freaks people out. he doesn’t mind though. the bandages were familiar. ghostbur would sometimes draw on them whenever he replaced them. they got ruined eventually, but it was nice while it lasted.

the nether was his safe place. it made him feel at home. he didn’t have a home anymore.

(he didn’t deserve one.)

but if he had one, this would be it. the heat seeped through his bandages and into his bones. he fit right in, a burned boy of lava and ash.

the first time someone other than ghostbur saw him in the lava they stopped, and stared. he stared back as well. people didn't look him in the eyes anymore, not that he could blame them. there was nothing there to look at. empty pits that concaved into his skull...

there were two of them high above him, dressed in blue, on a cobblestone path. (he liked cobblestone.) he couldn’t make out their expressions from this far away, but he watched as one of them (he was pink? wait,, wtf why was he pink-) took the other’s shoulder, and guided him away. he continued swishing his legs through the lava from where he was sitting on the ledge. what were their names? (big… big.. something? weird name.) he shook his head, looked back down at ghostbur, who was waving enthusiastically at the retreating backs. he returned his gaze back to the lava surrounding his feet.

it was warm.

**Author's Note:**

> um so. yeah. that was short. my bad. let me know if you liked it?


End file.
